Darling, You're Drabbling Again!
by DrinkingAlcoholicRainbows
Summary: "Moving air carrying sound, an odor, or a scent." :: Thirty drabbles for a thirty day Tumblr challenge. And odd isn't it? She only missed his summer winds when he was already gone.
1. Chapter 1

**_Drabble A Day_ Tumblr Challenge**

**Day One**

**Characters: Leo Valdez.**

* * *

He wakes up and the first thing he sees is the pattern of the wood table which his head is currently–ahem–intimately acquainted with. He grumbles, and his hands move to feel anything that isn't hard or made from trees or–there. He's touching a metal tool now, and he's willing to bet all his money that it's a screwdriver. He finally looks up and his suspicions are confirmed; he's been sleeping in the workshop. He's been doing that a lot lately. It's a messed up way to start his day, he knows that, but he's a demigod and he's pretty much used to it by now.

And yes, Leo also knows that's crazy too, but it's his life now and frankly; that's just the beginning.

* * *

**_be·gin·ning _**

_n._

_The act or process of bringing or being brought into being; a start._


	2. Chapter 2

**_Drabble A Day_ Tumblr Challenge**

**Day Two**

**Characters: Jason Grace, Percy Jackson.**

* * *

For a moment, time stilled. Jason's eyes were closed, and Percy was glaring at him so fiercely that the rest of the seven had no doubts that this was why he wouldn't stare back at the other demigod. A whole lot of people said he was brave, praised him for it really, but he wasn't. Not enough to open his blue eyes, open his mouth, open his heart and say: "Look, Percy. I'm sorry for insulting your girlfriend. I'm sorry for being jealous of you. I'm sorry for wanting to be you. I'm sorry for all of that. I hope we can be friends someday." He wasn't brave enough for that yet.

Percy turned his back, but he stood still at the end of the room, just by the entrance. "Praetor Jason, I respect you. But don't _ever_ make any accusations of me, of Annabeth, of anyone or any_body_ you don't understand yet. Because chances are you are completely wrong." And he shut the door with all the sorry's still hanging on Jason's lips.

* * *

_**ac·cu·sa·tion**_

_n._

_A charge of wrongdoing that is made against a person or other party._


	3. Chapter 3

**_Drabble A Day_ Tumblr Challenge**

**Day Three**

**Characters: Clarisse La Rue, mentioned Luke Castellan, Percy Jackson, and Chris Rodriguez.**

* * *

Thud. It was the sound of another dummy hitting the floor. She was panting, sweating, and she looked ready to collapse. But Clarisse La Rue was never one for stopping. A Child of Ares, backing down? That's hilarious; another joke, please. They lived on action; on being able to move; to feel the blood pursing down their veins; to feeling alive. And flawlessly beheading one, separating the torso from the body of another, she never felt more like it.

Slash. That was for Prissy, who got everything while she didn't and didn't try to help.

Stab. That was for Luke, who betrayed the camp she loved as home without giving it a second thought.

Move in and kill. That was for Chris, who was still on that boat, somewhere, and who didn't think of the girl she thought he loved before leaving.

Fierce, restless, on-the-move, La Rue. Keep your head in the game.

* * *

**rest·less**

**_adj._**

**Not able to rest, relax, or be still: _a restless child._**


	4. Chapter 4

**_Drabble A Day_ Tumblr Challenge**

**Day Four**

**Characters: Piper McLean.**

* * *

It was silly that she used to believe in fairytales. All those princesses and kingdoms and Prince Charmings on horses who fought dragons and villains just to save a pretty girl. It was just stupid. So she thanked the gods that Mulan came out, and snapped her younger self back to business. When she watched that movie, all she could think of was the fact that Mulan was more than just a beautiful face to look at. That girl was a warrior who embraced the fact that she had the power to change her fate and did. Four year old Piper Mclean wanted to be like her. Fifteen year old Piper McLean still wanted to be.

She's far past those days now. She's a big girl. She's going to save the world with six of the best demigods in the century. She was going to be a hero, just like Mulan. She was going to be a warrior, just like Mulan. She was going to change her fate and kick some giant butt, just like…just like her. Like Piper McLean.

She reached out her hand and caught a snowflake. She crushed it in her hands and let it fall. Piper McLean is not a snowflake anymore. Look out world; Piper McLean the Hero of Olympus is coming her way.

* * *

**snow·flake**

_**n.**_

_**A single flake or crystal of snow.**_


	5. Chapter 5

**_Drabble A Day_ Tumblr Challenge**

**Day Five**

**Characters: Rachel Dare, mentioned Percy Jackson, hinted Luke Castellan.**

* * *

You look at the painting for a moment, trying to figure out what it _means_. It's the portrait of a smiling boy with wide blue eyes and sandy-blonde hair. You know this boy, you're not sure how, but you do. Childhood friend? Forgotten classmate? Imaginary friend? Your head is dizzying to the point where you just give up and flop back to your bed. The details are too unclear, and they don't make sense. A boy in black? Lightning striking a building? A screaming girl? They tie in together, you're sure, but again, you're not sure how. The number seven and something about a curse…they're the frequent ones that plough in your mind unexpectedly and settle there for a long time.

And Percy–_god_, you're not even sure of that boy anymore. You like him, you like him a lot, but your fates are different and he's destined for something else and how you know that, you have no idea. There's a war, you know that. But the paintings and the visions and the stuff about fates and all that; they're tied in to that very same war everybody's fighting.

Everything is so unclear right now, and all you can think about sometimes is how you want the haze to go away.

* * *

**haze**

**_n._**

**A vague or confused state of mind.**


	6. Chapter 6

**_Drabble A Day_ Tumblr Challenge**

**Day Six**

**Characters: Nico di Angelo.**

* * *

Shudder. Gasp. Breathe, boy, breathe. C-C-Cold. Bad. Saved? No. Need to get out…jailed. Why am I jailed? Captured? Shackles. Alone. Am I alone? Always. Forever. Friends. Do I have friends?

Stupid, they'd be here by now if you had any.

It's…dirty. Sad. Freezing. Cobwebs? Must be old. Are you old? How long has it been anyway? Minutes, hours, days, years? Stupid. You're stupid. Hungry, freezing, alone. And stupid. Don't forget stupid. And alone. You're still so alone. Nobody's here. They must have left you. Probably didn't want you around anyway. You're such a disappointment. It's like nobody bothers to check up on you. Cares for you. Loves you. You're always left behind, in the shadows. Dark. It's dark. Too dark. It's kind of haunting. Terrifying. Scary–you're scared, but kings aren't supposed to be. Ghost King. Doesn't matter now. You're still so cold.

In the darkness of the shadows, Nico di Angelo prays for a light; a flame; to remind him that it he is not alone.

* * *

**flame [_fleɪm_]**

**n.**

**A brilliant light; a fiery glow.**


	7. Chapter 7

**_Drabble A Day_ Tumblr Challenge**

**Day Seven**

**Characters: Frank Zhang.**

* * *

The centurion's badge was horribly itchy; much less comfortable than elephant's skin. Frank tried not to scratch it, or take it away, or throw it to the sea, or anything. He honestly couldn't understand how Gwen and Dakota could stand having a crescent piece of pure bronze on their person, much less one that makes him want to melt it with his stick. Yes, Frank Zhang would sacrifice his life to melt what most of the other legionnaires wanted since they first came to Camp Jupiter. It was just _that_ itchy.

He was also pretty sure that they were given the itchiest and most annoying centurion's badges. Bottom of the cohort chain, and all. Frank still doesn't know how bronze could be scratchy though. He isn't that willing to find out, either.

So for now he stands straight and hopes he looks as formal and as proper as Reyna, or maybe even Dakota. Man, it's just been fifteen seconds and he already hates being a centurion. Way to be a total _stulte_, Zhang.

* * *

**for·mal**

**_adj._**

**Having the outward appearance but lacking in substance: _a formal requirement that is usually ignored._**


	8. Chapter 8

**_Drabble A Day_ Tumblr Challenge**

**Day Eight**

**Characters: Annabeth Chase, mentioned Percy Jackson.**

* * *

It's been two days, thirteen hours, twenty-nine minutes, and fifty-three seconds since they first met.

What she first thought about him was that he was going to be the one. This dirty, tired, sleeping was going to be a hero, and she stretched that belief for the entire time that they knew each other and–oh look. Update the counter; it's now been four years, two months, one week, twenty-six days, thirteen hours, forty-seven minutes, and eleven seconds. That's how long PercyandAnnabeth were a team. They were unbeatable, weren't they? The other campers certainly said so. Annabeth doesn't even bother in trying to correct them anymore.

Because no; they weren't unbeatable. Percy's been kidnapped by Hera and is with harsh, unforgiving, ruthless Romans, and Annabeth is still trying to keep herself together and make a plan. She's crying now, she's forcing herself to walk away from the Poseidon cabin, she's trying not to collapse and shatter and break. Who knows what Percy is doing right now? He probably doesn't even remember her.

It's been six months, three weeks, fifteen days, two hours, twelve minutes, and thirty-eight seconds since her boyfriend; her best friend; her team-mate; her loyal, funny, charming companion went missing. Today is going to be the day, she thought as she leaned by the railing of the Argo II, that Annabeth Chase is going to get him back.

* * *

**com·pan·ion**

_n_

_one of a pair; match_


	9. Chapter 9

**_Drabble A Day_ Tumblr Challenge**

**Day Nine**

**Characters: Hazel Levesque.**

* * *

Move, move, move. Roll and–Hazel cupped her ears as she braced for impact–_thud_. She grinned at the fallen gold bar and patted her hands in a _'well-that's-done'_ manner. Easily, she concentrated on the dirt and had it cover the ditch she made. Nobody needs to know about her freakish powers or stupid curse. That gold bar was dead. Gone. In the dirt. Nobody was ever going to die at the hands of this deceitful, treacherous, evil gold bar. Not if Hazel Levesque had anything to say about it.

Needless to say, when she found that the same bar she deemed 'treacherous' was floating behind her the entire time, it was also the day she could make her cursed jewelry evaporate into nothingness.

And by evaporate, I mean explode.

* * *

**move**

_vb_

_to go away or to another place; leave_


	10. Chapter 10

**_Drabble A Day Tumblr_ Challenge**

**Day Ten**

**Characters: Reyna, Hylla.**

* * *

She hums and taps her fingers against the neatly planked wood. Very newly delivered from—rumors say—the hulking fires and forges of Vulcan himself. She does not believe and such heresy and what surely would be lies, so she rather would not mention it. It is a sacrilege, honestly, that her fellow Romans would sink that low. So she settles on smirking—just a bit; her emotions are rather unnoticeable and somewhat nonexistent, after all—and laces her fingers in that soft, elegant way that only a person of royalty can imitate to perfection.

In a way, she's rather close enough.

The other glares from her place at the floor. She looks up at that horrid, disgusting, girl sitting on a throne of gold—which she does not deserve—and sneers.

"Well, well, well," she clicks. "Looks like Little Miss War Princess is now a Queen. Would you look at that?"

Reyna opens her mouth and in that sweet—but she knows it's not, and it's far, far too sweet for it not to be called bitter—melodic—but she's never been much for singing, she can't carry a single tune, and it's all so, so wrong—silvery—but she always liked gold better, all for heroics and nobleness, but she's too, too much like a shining silver for her not to be—voice she eloquently whispers:

"Don't be silly, sister. I always have been."

* * *

**sil·ver**

**_adj._**

**Eloquent; persuasive: _a silver voice._**


	11. Chapter 11

**_Drabble A Day Tumblr_**** Challenge**

**Day Eleven**

**Characters: Silena Beauregard, mentioned Charles Beckendorf, Malcolm.**

* * *

She looks at the scythe charm in her hands, and wonders how something so evil could be so beautiful. Then she thinks of the book Malcolm made her read in his fit of rage a few years ago, and thinks that maybe, like Dorian Gray, there is a picture of her somewhere that gets crueler and crueler day by day.

Sometimes, Silena thinks that there isn't a picture at all. Just the mirrors she looks into.

And sometimes, she thinks that love isn't real. It's just an illusion — like hope, and affection, and all the other things that people like to cling on to, but don't exist. It's like they are so desperate, so wanting of a good tomorrow, that they cling on to those things.

She doesn't think of herself and how she clings on to Charlie, and how Charlie doesn't exist anymore. At least, she tries not to.

Silena looks at the scythe charm in her hands, and wonders how she could ever be prepared for this.

* * *

**prepared**

_**adj.**_

**having made preparations; ****_"prepared to take risks"_**

* * *

And quietly, silently, the spy whispers, _"Not."_


	12. Chapter 12

**_Drabble A Day_**** Tumblr Challenge**

**Day Twelve**

**Characters: Luke Castellan, hinted Annabeth Chase.**

* * *

He holds the blade designed to draw blood from mortals and immortals, and wonders if it will work on him when he's half and half. Everyone says it will, and it does, when he tightens his hands on the edge. Later does he realize that he doesn't bleed mortal crimson, or immortal gold.

It's always been a mix; like two sides of the same mirror.

Later he thinks it's two sides of the same blade; a half bronze, half steel blade that got tired of it's life and decided to bite back.

(Or maybe it just stabs in the back. He never really knew. He died knowing that he didn't understand his blade the same way he never understood himself; never knowing if he left to fight for somebody or if he just left, leaving a little girl alone to figure that out.)

He thinks that there's a reason why he was always cunning yet never smart. He just wasn't clever enough to figure that out, and just kept on running. Away or to somewhere else, he never really knew either.

He doesn't know much of anything, but Luke eventually figures out that knowledge isn't something he can boast about—if he doesn't know who he is, he probably never had the sense to figure it out anyway.

* * *

**knowl·edge**

**n.**

**familiarity, awareness, or understanding gained through experience or study.**


	13. Chapter 13

**_Drabble A Day_ Tumblr Challenge**

**Day 13**

**Characters: Charles Beckendorf, Silena Beauregard**

* * *

He sees her talking to her things on a bright June day, and that's the day he realized that he might be in love with her.

She blushes without make-up when he walks in on her yelling at her pillow for not being fluffy enough. She stutters without faking it when he raises a scorched eyebrow at her. She twirls her hair without meaning anything else other than nervousness and embarrassment when he begins to laugh. She smiles at him without seduction in mind when he moves closer. She kisses him without any malicious intent when their lips touch.

He always liked that about her; her courage to say the truth. He likes to think that she feels the same way when he never says anything without it being important. She might not, but he gets that feeling anyway when they hold hands. It's kind of magical.

He walks in on her for a few more times; one memorable one was when she threw her hair brush at the mirror. Her hair was extremely frazzled for once, that day, clothes rumpled and no cosmetics on her face. He liked it better that way, so he didn't mind. He reached out with his hand and hugged her. She had held him tighter than usual, muttering, "Worry, worry, worry," to his chest.

He doesn't remember that her eyes were red. He doesn't remember that his shirt was stained with tears. He doesn't remember she was shaking.

He had long since known how to repress parts of his memories. It was important; it was survival.

The last time she walks in on her talking to one of her possessions, it's to a bracelet. It happened the morning of the mission. She had screamed and cried and he had held her, one last time, kissing her softly on her forehead before heading off to the stables. He had felt guilty for leaving while she was asleep, but he had mounted on to Blackjack anyway.

Later, he remembers everything he's ever denied as truth; his mother kicked him out, his father he only saw once, his mortal brother doesn't know about him, she was not saying "Worry, worry, worry," in a mantra, she was apologizing, she was saying sorry, she knew what was coming, and—

He breathes, just one more time, just enough to think, to remember, one second before he pushes and just one second before he's gone—

The bracelet had a scythe charm hanging off the edge, sparkling with just enough innocence for it to be called deceit.

* * *

**denial**

_**n.**_

_**a process by which painful truths are not admitted into an individual's consciousness**_


	14. Chapter 14

**_Drabble A Day_**** Tumblr Challenge**

**Day 14**

**Characters: Lupa, Jason Grace, Lady Juno**

* * *

When she first met him, he came with a fresh summer breeze. She wasn't surprised when the Queen of the Gods told her it was one of her husband's offspring, when she was told he was a son of the great Jupiter; she had smelled his demigod blood, his father's gift to his son, a mile away. She had smelled his potential.

But most of all, she had smelled the air.

It was a sunny day, so hot that some of her pack were being tended to by their elders before the intense heat took them away. She felt their ache for water, felt their ache for rest, and she allowed them to take a few steps back from their duty so that they could be properly aided. And perhaps, she had wanted to lie down as well, at least for a few seconds before being swept off by work, but it's best not to tell anyone about that.

Her pack was sweating. There was no wind. Only the humid air of which they were trapped in.

Until Juno had come, of course; it was a blessing, as it always was. Air had poured through the Wolf House's windows, giving most of her pack and then some a happy sigh of delight. The younger ones had howled loudly, and the rest bowed to the goddess. She had followed the latter example, waiting for the permission to rise.

"Come," she said, wonderfully divine voice pouring through in thin waves. "Rise, my wolves. It is a new day." Obligingly, their heads rose, including hers. Lady Juno seemed to favor them today, for she was looking at them with pride and something echoing fierce belief.

"My Lady," she spoke, respect set firmly in place. "I do not mean to pry, but surely you have come to us for a reason?"

Lady Juno considered her for a moment, before giving a slight nod, "Ah, yes. You wolves with your sense of duty. I can't possibly deny that." She clapped her hands lightly. "Disperse!" she ordered the pack, "Your leader and I have something private to discuss."

That's when she first sensed it; a summer wind rolling through the air, giving a semblance that closely could be labeled home. She had tried to find it, her nose only leading her to Lady Juno's robes, and exercised her ability to be patient. The goddess would tell her in due time.

"It is a boy," the goddess whispered, making her ears perk up in alert. Quietly, she took away the cloth hanging on her right arm, to reveal a sleeping baby boy. She looked at him in consideration, and sniffed; two years old, three at most. She sniffed again. And curiously, he smelled vaguely of ozone. She raised her eyebrows at the immortal beside her, who nodded.

"A son of my husband, I admit," Lady Juno said, her tone not without a hint of disapproval, "But I trust him to be good in your hands, in your camp. Camp Jupiter, if I remember correctly. He is destined for great things, as all sons of Jupiter are. Do treat him well."

"I will," she vowed, with conviction in her voice. "But may I ask the name of the child, m'lady?"

The goddess looked at her, her eyebrow raised, unimpressed. "You didn't think I would hand you a child and expect you to name him, did you? Some of your pack go nameless, I know, and you would possibly wait for him to grow up and name himself." She paused, and she said quietly, "But if you must know, his name is Jason Grace. That is all, my dear wolf."

She bowed, and with a twirl, the goddess disappeared, and Jason Grace was left sleeping on the ground, still surrounded by the winds of summer.

* * *

**wind**

_**n.**_

**moving air carrying sound, an odor, or a scent.**

* * *

Thirteen years later, when the boy is gone, whisked off by his winds, he brings them with him. Oddly, she feels a small pang in her chest when she can't smell summer winds from the camp anymore. And so she howls in the dead of night, like a wolf often must do, when she cannot find her pack.


End file.
